


open

by sunfish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:12:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8311798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfish/pseuds/sunfish
Summary: Yuri gets a little sick.(Tag clarifications in the beginning author note.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> To quote my lovely, lovely friend who inspired this, "like now i need a fic of someone lovingly inducing vomiting in someone else idc what ship i Require it."
> 
> So. That's the extent of this fic. Nothing more, nothing less really.
> 
> I wrote it in one night and gave it one read through for editing, so let me know if there's any weird errors.
> 
> Last edit: 11/30/16

Yuri curls up under his blanket and breathes through his nose. A wave of queasiness rolls through his stomach. He closes his eyes.

 _This was a mistake_ , he thinks, before realizing that could refer to multiple things and not just the amount of alcohol he had drunk.

Blowing his Grand Prix Finale debut was a mistake. Blowing the rest of his competitions that year was a mistake. Showing Yuko (and the rest of the world) his imitation of Victor Nikiforov was a mistake. Letting Victor Nikiforov stay here and be his coach was a mistake.

On the one hand, this might be his one golden opportunity for a comeback. If _Victor Nikiforov_ couldn’t help him then what other hope did he have? And besides all of that, how could Yuri ever really be unhappy at his idol, again, _Victor Nikiforov_ staying here?

On the other hand, Victor Nikiforov is, simply, an enigma. His previous coaches were strict and dedicated of course. Yuri would never blame Celestino for what happened last year. That was all on him. But Victor wasn’t only pushy and demanding, but _weird_. Maybe he should’ve known that when his official introduction as Yuri’s new coach was done literally naked but—Going from insults, to invasive questions, to what seemed like flirtation—Who does that, let alone a coach?

Yuri had always known he was a bold man. He would have to be in order to remain the legend he was, and still is, for over ten years.

But—

This is a lot. Maybe too much.

So, the drinking.

Yuri is not a lightweight. Not as much of a drinker as Minako, but more than adequate at holding his liquor. While there weren’t that many drinks he particularly loved, he had had plenty of social and celebratory drinks with friends in the past to build up a solid tolerance. And usually when he drank, he also had plenty of food to go with it. If not katsudon, then noodles, burgers, piroshki, or whatever the host had cooked up.

Not tonight.

Tonight had been drinking and more drinking and drinking alone. Snacks weren’t as easy to find compared to that bottle of shouchuu in the cupboard and, screw it, everyone else had been asleep (most importantly, Victor was asleep). And he missed the warm, sweet feeling that alcohol easily paved the way to.

Eventually though, drinking alone, in the dark, and kind of sad, was unpleasant. Straight shouchuu isn’t that great and he just got sadder.

Which Yuri would’ve been fine with as just a little late night lapse in judgment, but as it turns out, a glass of water doesn’t do much to combat downing almost half a bottle of liquor with no accompanying meal.

So barely an hour after sneaking back to bed, Yuri is awake and drowsy but deeply nauseous.

Moonlight shines through the crack between the curtains and he thinks that he could wait it out but he recognizes the denial. The wooden floors are old and wheezy but he makes it quietly to the bathroom despite the wooziness.

Yuri has puked from alcohol before. Twice actually. And both of them unanticipated and not in the toilet (one time in a potted plant and the other in a kitchen sink). So making it to the bathroom before upchucking is already an accomplishment.

But sitting there, his feet soon grow cold. Sickness roils through his gut but nothing happens.

He could just sleep by the toilet but the floor is hard and he didn’t bring a blanket or a pillow. Besides, he just wants to get this over and done with.

He could also make himself puke but the thought of it just makes him clench his fists on reflex.

And then Yuri hears footsteps.

His mind is now very awake and he starts to stand up but freezes. Should he leave quietly and hope that he doesn’t vomit while walking or in bed or stay here and assert that he’s just, uh, needing the bathroom for a while? The former is risky but the latter makes him grimace. Especially if it’s Victor. Or maybe they aren’t heading to the bathroom at all and he is safe.

But time is up and Yuri hears the door open behind him (locking it hadn’t occurred to him). And of course—

“Yuri?”

Of course.

Yuri turns his head slowly and squints. He had left his glasses behind because it was dark anyway and he hadn’t anticipated being here for very long.

He sees how the inn clothes Victor wears as pajamas fit loosely on him and his hair might be a bit tousled up from sleeping, but he can’t quite tell. His face is sort of a blur but Yuri _can_ tell he’s staring, sizing up the situation.

He becomes aware of the sweat on his face and how funny he’s breathing and Yuri wonders if the embarrassment of being caught kneeling by the toilet by Victor might finally push his body to get this all over with. But only more nausea simply washes through his gut without prompting further action.

Yuri doesn’t know what to expect Victor to do but it’s definitely not kneeling down beside him and gently cupping his face. Victor gets close and there’s still silence for a few moments.

“Did you drink?” Victor asks.

His senses are a bit muddled but he can’t detect any teasing in his voice. He nods.

“I just need to, but I haven’t—“ Yuri swallows and lets himself fully sit on the floor. His feet and legs prickle and another but smaller wave of queasiness hits his gut. He’s on the edge now, he thinks, he hopes anyway.

“How long have you been sitting here?” Victor asks. His tone is flat but gentle. He can’t read what it means.

Yuri sort of shrugs.

Victor looks around, still holding Yuri’s face. His hands are warm but Yuri is conscious of a blush creeping onto his cheeks and how damp his face must be. He pulls away to face the toilet, placing his hands on the rim.

“Are you about to vomit?” He asks, curious. Victor moves closer and places his hand is on Yuri’s back. It almost feels nice.

He almost laughs. “I wish.”

Victor doesn’t respond. Maybe he’ll tell him “good luck” or comment on the dangers of drinking alone and then leave him be. And maybe, if he’s lucky, not mention it in the morning.

Instead, Victor’s hand slides up around his shoulder as he whispers something low and soft.

“Do you want help?”

Yuri blinks. “With what?”

“Throwing up.”

His words reach Yuri’s brain but he can’t quite process them. _Help him throw up? What does that mean?_

But, he thinks that he does want help. Or might want help. Really, he just wants to go back to his room and sleep, and if Victor can make that happen faster then, well, he’s technically already on his knees.

“Sure,” Yuri answers.

Victor shifts, his one hand still on Yuri’s shoulder, and says, “Open.”

Before he can respond “What?” he feels a pair of fingers begin to firmly but slowly push into his mouth.

It all dawns on Yuri what Victor’s “help” entails and, rather than push him away, he opens his mouth a little wider.

Maybe if he was sober he wouldn’t let Victor be doing this to him but then again, if he was sober this wouldn’t be happening anyway.

Yuri adjusts himself, making sure his face is aimed well and that his position is relatively comfortable. Victor’s fingers enter deeper and it’s almost not bad. They’re warm and soft on his tongue and Victor is quiet and solid beside him.

Though once his fingers hit the back of his throat, Yuri’s body jerks and shudders. Victor grips his shoulder tighter and a strange mix of comfort and sickness ripples through his stomach. His eyes tear up and his throat burns but it’s so relieving after an eternity of shaky nausea. The taste in his mouth is still disgusting though. He’s never drinking alone again.

This repeats two more times, each with a break of a couple minutes to allow Yuri to sputter and regain his breath. Victor wipes the drool and bile from his mouth with a small washcloth he somehow has with him. He sometimes rubs circles on Yuri’s back but he doesn’t talk and neither does Yuri. Fact is, he’s long past the point of recovering any dignity.

After the third time, Yuri still sweats but his stomach feels more hollow than ill. He pushes himself away from the toilet and Victor yields, letting Yuri stretch out his legs. Soreness from putting all that weight on his knees spread throughout his joints and though he wants to get back to his bedroom, he chooses to sit against a wall. Victor wipes his fingers and then flushes the toilet.

“I’ll be right back,” Victor says and he leaves quietly.

As the sound of his footsteps fade, the chill of the bathroom settles back. Yuri closes his eyes and his breathing settles. His head doesn’t hurt but everything is a bit fuzzy.

 _This is weird_ , his mind registers, but it’s less of a condemnation of what’s happened and just a stated fact. It _is_ weird but Yuri feels _better_. Maybe he’ll open his eyes and it’ll have been a dream, some bizarre mental exercise he’ll have to keep to himself.

But he opens his eyes when he hears Victor step back into the bathroom and it is not a dream. He notices two plastic bottle in his hands. They’re both clear but he can’t read the labels. Yuri watches him kneel back down and twist the cap off of both of them.

“Open,” Victor commands and Yuri does.

Victor puts his hand on the side of Yuri’s jaw and tips one of bottles to his lips slowly. He doesn’t actually need help drinking from a bottle but he is tired so he doesn’t protest. It’s water. He only drinks a little though, barely a sip, before Victor puts the bottle down. He does this again with the other bottle. It tastes like Pocari Sweat but he’s not totally sure.

Victor closes both bottles as Yuri slumps, the peace and exhaustion of his body sinking in. He’s still not well but he’s not unwell anymore.

“Okay,” Victor states, “Let’s get you back.”

He taps Yuri on the arm, prompting him to lift himself from the floor. While holding the bottles in one hand, Victor puts his other arm around Yuri’s back as they walk together back to his bedroom. Yuri knows he can move on his own perfectly fine but the support is nice.

It’s a short distance but they walk slowly, silently.

As they stop before his door, words tumble out of Yuri’s mouth.

“This is the kindest you’ve been to me.” Yuri smiles when he talks but there’s something confused and almost bitter mixed in.

Victor faintly chuckles. “Am I not kind to you?”

Yuri chews on this as they enter his room.

“Sometimes.” He could say more but his bed is right there and who knows how early he’ll still have to wake up for training in the morning, regardless of tonight.

He hears Victor only chuckle again.

As Yuri slides back into his fantastic, wonderful bed that’s much more comfortable than the floor, Victor places the bottles on the desk across the room.

“Remember to drink these when you wake up.”

As Victor steps out, Yuri mumbles, “Thank you.”

There’s a pause in the sound of the door sliding shut.

Yuri can’t see him well in the dark and without his glasses but he thinks he smiles, just a little.

“Goodnight.”

**Author's Note:**

> I had a difficult time tagging this to be honest. I thought about "emetophilia" but that's not quite it? Sickfic is closer but it isn't really that fluffy I think. So choosing either just stressed me out too much. I don't know!!! I suppose the vibe I meant to achieve was tender, maybe sensual?
> 
> Anyway this was also somehow more embarrassing to write than literal pornography but I had fun! Thanks for reading.


End file.
